


Silver Tongues and Broken Arrows

by Steerpike_Jennkings



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Other, hawksilver - Freeform, i only wrote this so i could add lots of porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steerpike_Jennkings/pseuds/Steerpike_Jennkings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint watched Pietro from the corner of his eye. Wanda’s hands had moved from his hair to his hands, and as she cursed insults at Tony for wanting to use her brother as another experiment, Pietro kept his eyes shut and seemed zoned out. His thumb the only thing moving as it stroked his sister’s hand. Clint couldn’t look away. It made him uneasy to see Pietro motionless again; all he was missing was the hospital bed. Allot can happen in two years while in a coma, and allot can happen when you wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kid Was Back

The kid was back…somehow. Don’t get him wrong, Clint was overjoyed when he found out, but it didn’t change the fact that it was…well…unnerving to see someone who had been dead for two years walking around Stark towers.

Technically Pietro wasn’t even dead, just comatose. Wanda was convinced her twin would recover insisting, no begging, Stark to help her pay for life support. Tony wasn’t completely heartless, and it wasn’t like it would even make a dent in his bank account, so he agreed out of pity.

Everyone, including Tony, believed the kid would never wake. Science could keep his heart beating and his lungs breathing, but that wasn’t equal to being alive in Clint’s opinion. Despite everyone agreeing on this sad fact, no one could bear to express their opinions to Wanda. Instead, they all hoped someday she would come to terms with this fact herself and allow her twin to pass on.

Nineteen months went by and Wanda spent every evening in Pietro’s hospital room. Sometimes she would read to him, other times just listen to music. When she knew she was going to be gone working with the Avengers, she would explain to the unconscious Pietro how long she’d be gone and who would be looking out for him.

At first team members alternated filling in for Wanda. Sometimes Nat would come in; she would talk in Russian to him, mostly about disclosed cases at S.H.I.E.L.D., and allot of gossip about other team members. She didn’t spill her heart out to him, but Clint felt like Nat found comfort being able to use her mother tongue with both twins.

Tony and Pepper would come every once in awhile. They would bring paper work and discuss business with each other, only speaking to Pietro when they came and left. Usually Tony greeting “Hey kid,” and Pepper squeezing Pietro’s shoulder saying goodbye before they left.

Steve was the most common fill in for Wanda. He couldn’t say no to her. Clint couldn’t help but think Steve felt somewhat responsible for what happened to Pietro. He would always take another person to sit with him. Usually it was Sam, and they’d sit and play cards while listening to Sam’s music. On days Sam couldn’t go Natasha would. She would always find something to introduce Steve to, whether it was a board game from the last sixty years or a movie. One time that Barnes guy even came. He and Steve spent the whole time talking about ‘the good old days’. When no one else was available, Steve would sit and read newspapers from the last six decades, occasionally aloud but mostly to himself.

Clint however had rarely even stepped into the hospital room, let alone spend an evening alone with the lifeless body. He had been avoiding Wanda for months, afraid she would blame him for Pietro’s death, or worse, ask him to watch the kid one evening. He had succeeded for seventeen months…that was until the divorce.

After the incident with Ultron, things got _messy_ at home. Clint had tried to leave the Avengers, he really did. They had planned on selling the farm and moving as far away from New York as possible. Then Nick needed him on a mission. He promised he’d only be a week, and then they’d leave when he came home. Laura had acted fine with it, saying she understood and encouraging him to go. When he came home with a fractured collarbone, he expected to be ambushed by Lila and Cooper. Instead he found the house empty. Furniture, suitcases and family all gone. All that was left were three cardboard boxes. Sitting on top of them was a stack of papers, reading ‘ _Petition for Divorce’_ on the top.

Clint’s heart clenched and he had to sit on the floor to keep the room from spinning. He…he had no idea Laura even felt that way. For days he tried to call her, begging her to meet him somewhere to just talk. A week went by, then two. The farmhouse sold and Clint moved into Stark tower, with little explanation to his fellow teammates. Finally Laura returned his call, or at least her lawyer did. The woman representing Laura’s case explained there was going to be a discussion with the judge about custody and child support and Clint needed to pick a date he could attend.

“Friday,” he answered immediately. He needed to see his kids again as soon as possible; it was all that ran through his mind the days leading up to the consultation.

When he arrived at the courthouse, Lila and Cooper came running at him, screaming _“Dad!”._ It took all his will power not to break down and cry; He always said goodbye incase something were to happen to him, but he never imagined having to say goodbye incase something happened to _them._ Clint bent down on one knee holding his two oldest against him as they squeezed him in a tight embrace. It was painful, the injury to his collarbone still not recovered and the two children pressed firmly against the sling, but he didn’t care. He wanted to feel the pain. It meant that they were still there, that they were safe with him.

Clint finally pulled back, looking at his two beautiful, amazing children. “How’ve you guys been?” he asked, not sure how much their mother had told them about what was happening.

“Good,” Lila answered, smiling brightly.

Cooper looked grim though. “Dad, you said you were only going to be gone a week.”

“I-“ Clint struggled to find an excuse. He couldn’t blame Laura, he wasn’t going to ever bad mouth the mother of his children. Even if what she had done was _wrong in so many ways._ “I got caught up, I’m sorry Coop.”

Lila was pulling on his suite jacket though, uninterested in why her father was late. “Dad, do you like my dress?”

Clint smirked, looking over his daughter. Her hair pulled back into a French braid and wearing a white dress covered in pink polka dots. “I love it.” He answered.

“Where’s your mom at?” he asked, looking around the courthouse. Lila took his good hand and led him through the marble building, talking about their new house in Montana and how they were “ _staying with grandma until you got back Dad,”_

He finally spotted Laura, bouncing Nathanial on her knee as she spoke with a tall, thin, well-dressed woman. Clint approached uneasily, smiling at his youngest child. “Hi Nate.” he leaned forward to kiss his toddlers head but caught sight of Laura’s glare and thought better of it.

The well-dressed woman studied Clint with cold eyes. Her bird-like features cocked this way and that, as if he was a mouse and she was his predator. The grey hair on her head was pulled so tightly back, he wondered vaguely if she were to undo it if her face would sag into a puddle.

“Mr. Barton,” she finally hissed. “We are going to have to have a private conversation with your children. Afterwards you and Ms. Barton will be asked to come speak with the judge.”

Clint looked down with a frown to Lila and Cooper. “Why can’t you come?” Lila asked, squeezing her father’s hand tighter.

Clint leaned forward, “It’s alright. After you and Cooper talk with Miss…” he looked up to the lawyer, unable to remember her name.

“Mrs. Johnson,” Laura answered.

Clint looked back to his daughter. “After you talk with Mrs. Johnson we’ll go get ice cream, okay?”

Lila and Cooper looked at each other smiling. “Okay,” Lila answered overjoyed.

Before she left, Clint pulled her into another hug, unsure he could bear to see her leave again. Laura set Nate on the floor, and he took Coopers hand instinctively. The three Barton children followed Mrs. Johnson to the Judge’s office, Clint not looking away until they disappeared behind the heavy wooden doors.

He turned to Laura, who was looking everywhere except for him.

“What happened to your arm?” she asked, sounding hurt.

“Fell.” Was all he answered half-truthfully, before sitting beside her on the bench.

 

That had been two months ago, and the judge still hadn’t decided whom to grant custody to. According to Clint’s lawyer, that was a good sign. It meant that they were likely to receive joint custody. The anticipation drove him nuts though. Without legal documents stating Clint was an equal guardian, Laura had taken them to Montana and wouldn’t let him visit. She did let them call whenever they wanted, so every evening Clint would Skype with Cooper and Lila, and sometimes if it was before his bedtime, Nate. It became his favorite part of the day.

Without a family to go home to, Clint began to grow bored at Stark tower. With the injury to his collarbone still unhealed, Steve refused to let him join in any ‘Avenging’. Tony and Pepper were always dealing with malfunctioned science experiments and business meetings. Natasha had been amazingly supportive, doing her best to convince Clint that Laura was simply overwhelmed and that with time, things would work out for the better; even if that meant divorce.

One evening, as he sat in the lounge of Stark tower, Wanda came and sat across from him. Clint lowered the magazine he was reading and gave an uncomfortable “Hey,”

She smiled warmly, “Hello.”

Silence passed between the two, neither sure what to say. They hadn’t spoken in months. Finally Wanda took a deep breath and spoke:

“I am going on a mission for a few weeks.”

Clint nodded, he knew where this was leading and he didn’t like it. “Is that the one in Beijing?” he asked, dancing around the subject.

“Yes.” She answered, her face solemn. “My brother will need to be watched while I’m away, but Natasha and Steve are both going on this assignment, and the Starks will be occupied most evenings. Since you cannot come on the mission, I was wondering…” her voice trailed off, but she never looked away from Clint. Her dark eyes staring at him with such intensity, it made him squirm.

He sighed, rubbing his temple with good arm. There was no way he could tell her no and _not_ feel guilty. “Alright.”

Wanda rested her hand on Clint’s knee. “Thank you,” she said quietly, as if she hardly believed he had said yes.

 

The first night alone with Pietro was uncomfortable. He tried to read aloud but it only reminded him of reading to Lila every night before bed. After that thought struck him he couldn’t concentrate on the words he was saying, and soon found himself setting the book down. Next he tried to talk, yet he realized he didn’t have anything to really say, other than: “I never really got to say thank you.”

The second night was much better. His children called and Clint spent most of the evening talking about Coopers new basketball team and Lila’s dance recital. When they hung up Clint felt lighter, as if nothing could ruin his buzz. He smirked to himself, passing his phone between his hands and watching Pietro. “They’re great kids.” he muttered; “If it wasn’t for you they wouldn’t even have a dad.”

Three weeks passed with Wanda gone, Clint being her fill in almost everyday. With each passing evening Clint found himself talking to Pietro more and more. He’d talk about what his kids had done that day, how the apartment hunt was going, and about how the judge _still_ hadn’t come to a decision on custody. Clint’s lawyer told him he had to look over Clint’s records, _all of them._ That meant the judge had a lot of paperwork to read; some good, some not so good.

It became habit for Clint in the final week to just talk for hours. He hadn’t felt so comfortable talking about personal things since Natasha or Laura. It wasn’t exactly a fair comparison, seeing as Pietro couldn’t give the same wise advice as Laura would, or figure out a problem like Natasha could, but it was something.

“Laura’s lawyer, Mrs. Johnson,” Clint said as he flipped through the pages of a magazine, “She must have some sort of vendetta against me. Like, this morning she called me about child support and asking why I hadn’t paid yet. I explained that it wasn’t due until Friday and that I wasn’t exactly rich seeing as Laura took all the furniture and I’ve had to replace things. She then proceeds to tell me that if any of my ‘payments’ are late, she’ll report it to the judge. I wanted to tell her to go fu-“

_Beep. Beep._

Clint stopped mid sentence and looked up confused at the heart-monitor, then down to Pietro. That…was weird. The beeping was totally normal, it happened every few seconds, but _only_ every few seconds; Never one right after another. Pietro lie still on the hospital bed, not even a twitch. Clint threw his magazine down on the bed and stood.

“Be right back, kid.” Concerned the machine might be malfunctioning he made his way through Stark Tower to the lounge.

“Nearly all Pym Techs investors are all pulling out, after what happened with Cross.” Pepper said, a blue screen displayed a large graph, a completely vertical drop dipping to zero. Tony stood besides her, looking at the screen with a frown.

“Dillon Cross was insane,”

“Darren.” Pepper corrected, glaring at Tony. He waved a hand, dismissing it.

“That type of technology is impossible. Your mass would immediately crush all your bones and organs at that size.”

“I know.” Pepper tilted her head. “But Falcon’s goggles tell a different story.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “That surveillance was a prank. If a suite could be designed like that, I would have figured it out.”

Pepper hummed, smiling at Tony’s refusal to believe someone invented something equally as cool as his suite. “I’m sure Sam’s bruises and damage to his wings were also faked?”

Tony turned back towards her. “The answers obvious: he’s terrible at flying.”

Clint cleared his throat. The Starks spun around, eyebrows raised.

“Did something happen?” Pepper asked, fearing the worse.

“It’s probably nothing.” Clint explained, “His heart rate just increased for like a second.”

Tony shrugged his shoulders. “Probably nothing to worry about. Could’ve been anything from a machine blip to the kids body just reacting to a change in surroundings.”

“You need to at least go check,” Pepper scolded.

Tony sighed, not wanting to argue with her. “Fine. Come on Barton, let’s go check on comatose.”

Tony fiddled with wires and frowned at the medical equipment. “You do realize I’m only a doctor in engineering and physics, not medicine.”

Clint scoffed. “Is that why all these things have the Stark logo on ‘em?”

“They’re not all my designs.” Tony muttered, glaring at monitor. “But even so these are the best medical equipment available. Whatever caused the blip, it had to have been from the kid.”

Tony looked down at Pietro, watching him like one of his science experiments. “Maybe he’s waking up, or maybe it was just a spike in his brain activity. I’d hold off telling miss magic until they get home tommorow.”

Clint nodded, his heart feeling as if it were sinking. He had hoped maybe, just maybe, the kid was recovering. Tony looked up at Clint, face looking sympathetic. “I’ll have a MD come check him out tomorrow, just to be sure.”

Tony patted Clint’s shoulder before leaving, phone already out, no doubt texting Pepper.

 _Oh God._ Clit rubbed his eyes, a feeling of exhaustion overwhelming him. Sighing, he looked to his watch and cringed. It was already three AM.

“Okay kid,” Clint switched off the light to the room, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

 _Warmth._ Clint draped his arm over Laura. He could feel her breathing; gentle, slow, and peaceful. This was his nirvana, and it was all he wanted. As sleep left him, the dream began to fade, memories slowly returning. Laura wasn’t there; he hadn’t seen her in months. Clint’s mind suddenly sobered. If Laura was gone, then who the fuck-

Clint’s eyes snapped open, and he yelled in shock, falling out of bed as he struggled to get as far away from Pietro as possible. “What the _fuck?!”_ he shouted, tangled in bed sheets.

The door to his bedroom swung open, Steve running in and looking around the room. “Barton?” he called.

Clint grunted as he untangled himself from the blankets and stood, looking horrified at his bed.

 _Pietro, bed, my bed, how?_ Was all Clint could comprehend. He looked up to Steve who looked equally as confused. Okay, so he wasn’t the only one seeing him. He wasn’t fucking insane.

“Is that…” Steve said unsure, then looked over at Clint. “Why is he in your bed?!”

“I don’t know!” Clint answered, unable to look away from Pietro, curled up into a tight ball and in his pajamas. The same pajama’s he was wearing the night before. Had someone moved him? Was this some kind of sick practical joke? _What the fuck was happening?_

Steve took a step forward, resting an arm on the kids shoulder and shaking him gently. “Pietro?”

“Hmm,” the kid groaned, his eyes fluttering open and then squeezing shut. He muttered something in Russian, Clint only able to make out a few words. _Wanda, sun light, headache._

“Pietro.” Steve shook him harder, until Pietro finally opened his eyes and looked around the room.

 _“Tchyo za ga lima?”_ Pietro yelled, looking between Steve and Clint.

“You are,” he waved a finger at Steve trying to think. “You are Captain America, yes?”

Steve was laughing, looking up to Clint. “Wanda, go get Wanda!” he ordered.

It didn’t take being told twice for Clint to take off running towards Scarlet Witches bedroom, shouting as loud as he could down the hall. “Up! Everyone up!”

 

Every Stark tower resident was in Clint’s bedroom. Wanda was on the bed, clinging to Pietro as if he would disappear the second she let go. To say the least it was emotional reunion. She had been in tears instantly, and Pietro had no idea why because every time she tried to explain she would only break into more tears.

Finally, taking pity on the girl, Steve explained why and how long Pietro had been in a coma. The boy’s face looked terrified, and Clint could see the grip around his sister only tighten.

Tony was asking a million questions, one right after the other. _“What was the last thing you remember?” “Aren’t you feeling dizzy?” “How’d you end up in Barton’s room?”_

Pepper nudged him with her elbow. “Ow.” Tony growled, looking as offended as possible.

“Now that _is_ a story I want to hear.” Natasha said smirking at Clint.

“Yeah, me too.” Clint said, stepping into the conversation for the first time.

Pietro shook his head. “I have no idea…”

“Perhaps we should check the security camera’s,” Vision suggested, looking to Tony and Pepper.

“Great idea!” Tony said, slapping Vision on the back, “F.R.I.D.A.Y. could you please scan Pietro’s medical equipment and the security footage in room 616 then send it to the lab?”

 _“Of course Sir,”_ The female AI responded. Tony looked around at everyone in the room, everyone still in their pajamas except for Steve who was in his running clothes.

“Anyone want us to run downstairs for some coffee?” Natasha finally asked.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed instantly, wanting to get the image of waking up next to Pietro out of his head as fast as fucking possible.

They both pushed passed the crowd at the door and headed instinctively towards the elevator. “Starbucks?” Natasha asked, pushing the first floor button.

“Yep.”

She looked over, her lips suppressing a smile. “You’re not very talkative this morning?”

Clint scoffed. “I’m still kinda terrified after waking up with a dead person in my bed.”

“Wasn’t dead.” she corrected.

“Well,” Clint tilted his head like he didn’t agree, but he was grinning like an idiot. Pietro, _alive._ It was the best thing that had happened to him all year.

“Nice pants.” Natasha raised an eyebrow as she looked over Clint’s attire. Black sunglasses, purple t-shirt, long grey pajama bottoms with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo all over them and finishing the look in just white socks.

“Not exactly appropriate anymore, huh?” he asked.

Natasha hummed in thought. “Not really.”

He shrugged. Hers wasn’t much better. For one thing she was barefoot, and in a t-shirt that read _‘Captain Canada’_ with a red and white maple leaf parody of Steve’s shield, her hair frizzy and pulled into an untamed ponytail. Sometimes he wondered how she was the deadliest spy he knew.

 

The team all stood around Tony’s lab, holding drinks Clint and Nat had brought upstairs. The one great thing about living in Stark Tower? There was a Starbucks on the first floor. In all honesty, Clint was pretty sure that was the only reason Natasha was even living there.

All their drinks were on a list saved to the database so that any Avenger could just come and request their choice drink and pick up anyone else’s without having to memorize them. Clint’s favorite: Black. The darkest, strongest, and largest brew.

Everyone had a specific drink, except for Pietro. Clint wasn’t even sure the kid would be awake when they got back, but Nat waved the thought away. “Just get him whatever you think he’d like.” Natasha said, as if it were incredibly easy.

So, Clint made a guess. Pietro has been unconscious for months, he’d probably like the first thing he tasted not to be too strong or sweet. If it had been one of Clint’s kids, he would’ve gotten them a smoothie. So that’s what he ordered for Pietro.

“What is this?” Pietro asked when handed the drink.

“Chocolate smoothie.” Clint answered.

Pietro looked over to Wanda. “Can I have drink yet?”

Wanda shook her head looking concerned. “We should wait for Doctor.”

“The kid survived being shot by thirty-six bullets, a smoothie isn’t gonna hurt him.” Tony yelled, his back turned to them as he skimmed through surveillance footage.

“I don’t really like chocolate,” A grin spread across Pietro’s face.

“Yeah, you’re back to yourself again.” Clint chuckled and squeezed Pietro’s shoulder before walking back to where Natasha was sitting on a table.

“Told you.”

“Said he didn’t like chocolate. How can a person _not_ like chocolate?” Clint hopped onto the table and watched as Tony pulled up screens of data filled with graphs and footage of Pietro lying motionless in bed. It felt weird, as if the Pietro sitting feet away from him was simply a fragment of his imagination.

“Okay,” Tony called out to the room. “One thing I would like to say before I begin: Pietro, we’re glad you’re, you know _alive,_ but it’s going to take awhile to figure out what kicked you back to consciousness. You following so far?”

“Yes.” The white hair kid answered.

“Now, the first we see a change in your heart rate was 2:46 AM. Barton was in your room when it went off, and he came and got me. F.R.I.D.A.Y., please play the from 2:45 AM to 2:50 please.”

The screen began to play, showing Clint sitting beside Pietro’s bed holding a magazine and talking away. _Thank God there was no audio._ Suddenly Clint looks up at the heart monitor. He stood, left the room and it seemed like that’s where the clip would end, but as Clint watched, he noticed something strange. He couldn’t pinpoint it through.

“Anybody notice anything?” Tony asked as the tape reached the 2:55 mark.

Wanda was the first to speak: “Why did it become all blurry on the left?”

Tony nearly jumped up and down. “Exactly! See, when me and Clint came back, we didn’t notice anything, because the human eye can’t process movement that fast.”

Okay, now it was obvious. “He was moving?” Clint asked.

“Yes.” Tony said, pointing the straw from his drink at him. “Just his fingers, like a twitch, but because of Pietro’s weird speed deal, it was too fast for us to see except when slowed down on camera.”

“That doesn’t explain how he ended up in Barton’s bed.” Natasha said sipping at her drink.

“Hold on, hold on we’re getting there.” Tony waved his hand in front of the screen, pulling up two graphs. “Now this is the data from your average human coma patient. When they begin to show signs of waking, it can take days, even weeks to recover after the first sign: an increase in heart rate.”

“Is that one mine?” Pietro asked pointing to the one on the right.

“Yep.” Tony said. “Whatever your super speed thing is, it allowed you to recover at a rate one-hundred and seventy-five times faster than the average human. You went from an increase in heart-rate, to movement, to complete consciousness in less than an hour.”

Pietro shrugged. “I am weird, I get it. I just want to know what I did after waking.”

Tony looked around the room, everyone’s face looking as uninterested in the data as Pietro was. “This is why Banner should never have left.” He muttered, throwing his hands in the air.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. bring up Pietro’s heart monitor and surveillance video from 3:09 AM and forward. Increase video speed by twenty percent.”

A blue chart appeared in the corner of the surveillance video, a small dot guiding the line up and down in the same pattern everyone knew. _One two three, beep. One two three, beep._ The noise hadn’t bothered Clint before, but now it drove him crazy listening to it.

Pietro’s head rolled to the side in the video, looking all over the room. The heart monitor slowly began to increase; _one two beep_ , _one two beep_. Pietro looked afraid and in a blur he had tried to leap from the bed, unknowing about the electrical chords and tubes still attached. They fell over with him.

Wanda’s hand covered her mouth. Everyone at first expected her to be in shock, but they all looked towards her when she began to giggle.

“Are you laughing at me?” Pietro asked glaring at her.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you’ve never been very graceful.” Wanda wrapped an arm around her brother, eyes fixed on the screen.

The heart monitor was still playing, but there were no seconds in-between beeps, just a constant buzz as if Pietro’s heart had flat lined, but the kid was very much alive in the video, struggling to rip out the chords in his arm. The blue chart disappeared and Pietro sat looking terrified around the room. A blur of grey and the room was empty, glass door swinging shut.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. play surveillance videos in halls C, H and T at 3:12.”

The screen changed, showing three black and white videos side by side. As they played, the white blur of Pitro’s hair could be seen passing through the first two clips, but the kid came to a screeching halt in the third. Clint recognized his door as the only one in the hallway.

Video Pietro passed back and forth, looking lost and confused, eyes wide as he visually struggled to piece together what was happening. He caught sight of Clint’s door, and then he froze staring at it. After nearly a minute, Pietro reluctantly opened the door and entered.

The lab was quite, nobody quite sure what to say or how to react. Clint glanced over at Pietro. A frown sat on the boy’s face, eyes staring at the now blank screen in thought. “I…don’t remember any of that.”

Tony turned around clapping his hands and pointing at him. “Course not. Your body recovered so quickly that your brain didn’t have time to fully process what was happening. I’m shocked you’re even able to speak right now, but I’m sure a well-rested night of cuddling with Barton helped.”

Natasha couldn’t help but scoff. Clint took a sip of his coffee, acting nonchalant about the situation. Despite the obvious weirdness of the morning, he oddly felt ok with having woken up next to someone he previously considered as good as dead. It reminded him of nights when his kids couldn’t sleep, and he would awake in the morning with Lila’s hair in his face or Cooper’s sharp elbow stabbing into his side. It made him feel kind of paternal again.

Wanda was brushing the hair out of Pietro’s eyes. It had grown out in the past months and while some of the natural brown had returned, it was still shockingly white in patches. His curls had become a thick mop that hung almost to his shoulders and stubbornly refused to stay out of his face.

Pietro sighed as she played with the hair, comforted by his sister subconscious touching. Tony continued to blather on about the experiments he wanted to run on Pietro, and then Pepper joined in saying he needed to be looked over by a medical professional before Tony could get his hands on him. The room erupted in chaos; everyone arguing for what they thought was best. Clint and Pietro were the only two silent.

Clint watched Pietro from the corner of his eye. Wanda’s hands had moved from his hair to his hands, and as she cursed insults at Tony for wanting to use her brother as another experiment, Pietro kept his eyes shut and seemed zoned out. His thumb the only thing moving as it stroked his sister’s hand. Clint couldn’t look away. It made him uneasy to see Pietro motionless again; all he was missing was the hospital bed.

“Clint,” Natasha shook him out of his thoughts and he looked over to her.

“Hmm?”

“You’re phone’s ringing.” She said, looking at him with a hint of concern.

He could feel his pocket buzzing and quickly left the room, Natasha followed behind.

 _Oh God._ The words ‘Johnson Law Firm’ stretched across his screen. He sighed and answered, “Hello,” as cheerfully as he could force himself to sound.

 _“Mr. Barton,”_ The voice greeted disdained. _“The judge has come to a decision and my client has asked the custody hearing be held tomorrow morning at seven a.m.”_

Clint laughed nervously. “This is kind of short notice, uh- I didn’t even realize Laura was in town. The kids didn’t mention-“

 _“It is none of your business where my client is. This call is only meant to confirm your availability for tomorrow at seven.”_ Johnson snapped.

Biting his cheek to keep back the string of words he _really_ wanted to confirm. “That’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She had hung up. Clint lowered his phone and looked to Natasha, her eyes curiously watching him. “Tomorrow?”

He nodded, passing his phone between his hands. It had been a good day. He had just wanted one good day to take his mind off Laura, the kids. “Tomorrow.” He repeated.


	2. Chapter 2

The microwave read 4:37 A.M. Clint knew it was early, but this was insane. He'd made a pot of coffee about an hour ago; couldn’t sleep anyway, so he figured why not. In half-an-hour he’d have to leave to take a long taxi ride to the courthouse anyway.

The suit felt stiff and uncomfortable, how Coulson managed to wear one everyday for so many years baffled him. He couldn’t leave the sleeves alone; subconsciously pulling them down as he read through the paperwork his lawyer gave him. His collarbone fracture still hadn’t healed completely. He’d been out of a sling for almost a month but it still hurt to move. The monkey-suit didn’t exactly help with that.

Custody battles were confusing, but Clint had read the entire thirty-page packet twice this morning. All he had learned from it was his case wasn’t good. The government had no sympathy for ex S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, parents or not. Clint regretted not having asked Tony to suggest some big-name corporate lawfirms. Maybe then this wouldn’t feel so hopeless.

“I like the suit,”

Clint looked up, still not used to hearing that voice again. “Thanks,” he scoffed.

Pietro leaned against the doorway; he looked like hell. Clint couldn’t help but stare. His white hair was unkempt, pulled half-assed into a ponytail. Dark circles sat under bloodshot eyes and his face pale except for dark stubble.

“You look like you could use some more rest.” Clint commented.

Pietro shook his head. “Not tired.”

Clint didn’t believe that, but he could relate.

Pietro rubbed his eyes as if to emphasize how not tired he was. “Why are you awake so early?”

“Uh-“ Damn. He had hated explaining the whole ‘wife-left-me’ thing three months ago, and he forgot he’d have to explain it again. “I have a court hearing.”

A raised eyebrow, “For what?”

“You ask allot of questions.” Shit. That sounded angry. He hadn’t meant to be snappy, it was early and he was nervous. Clint sighed, rubbing his face “Sorry. Just uh-“

“You’re wife?” Pietro asked cautiously.

Clint furrowed his brows. “Who told you?”

Pietro’s mouth opened, but he didn’t say anything. He was visibly wracking his brain for an answer. “I, It… I remember you telling me. When I was um,” his hand waved beside his head, not sure of the word.

“Unconscious?” Clint suggested. Pietro only nodded.

Clint leaned back naturally curious. That was always a problem for him, wanting to poke things with a stick. At least he didn’t dissect it, like Stark.

“You remember everything, from the past twenty months?” Clint asked.

“No,” Pietro moved out of the doorway and slowly walked to the table. “Just parts of conversations.” He sat down beside Clint, hands folded nervously in his lap.

“Have you told Wanda, or Stark?”

He shook his head. “No, I-uh, didn’t realize until last night, when I started remembering things people had told me that I know I shouldn’t know. I-it’s just weird.” Pietro’s eyes starred at the table, his voice trailing off.

Clint stood, making Pietro jump. “I hope you like coffee.”

“Not really,” Pietro gave a partial smile as Clint handed him a cup of pure black boiling liquid.

“Too bad.” Clint was tempted to take the mug back for himself, but he needed to lay off the caffeine so he wouldn’t be jittery all morning. Instead he sat across from Pietro and stacked his legal papers into an uneven pile. Despite denying a taste for coffee, Pietro seemed to be drinking a lot of it.

“How old are your kids?”

He felt like an idiot, but Clint couldn’t help smiling while talking about them. “Well Cooper, he’s the oldest. He just turned eleven a few months ago. Then Lila, she’s only seven but insanely smart. Keeps telling us she wants to be the next ‘Mr. Stark’.”

“Oh no,” Pietro laughed. “Is she your youngest?”

Clint shook his head. “That’s Nathan, he’s a year and a half now. He can kinda’ of talk, mostly gibberish but he knows enough sign language to get the point across.”

Pietro raised an eyebrow. “Sign language? Like for deaf?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, not sure if he should continue. He didn’t really go around telling people about it, usually they read it on his file, but there really wasn’t a ‘file’ after S.H.E.I.L.D. fell. Did that mean he had to announce it to teammates incase his aid ever got fried or lost?

“Yeah,” he continued: “I’m deaf. Have been since I was Coopers age.”

Was this weird? It felt weird. The last time he had to explain to someone he was deaf was three years ago, when Lila asked why she had to learn ‘the funny hand language’. At least when the kids found out, they didn’t look sad or say how sorry they were. They just wanted to see his hearing aid and test how good he was at reading lips.

“Huh,” Pietro said, taking another sip of coffee. “Do you read lips or…?”

“I can read lips and sign, but I wear my hearing aid all the time ‘cause it’s less of a hassle.” Clint explained. He watched Pietro’s features. They didn’t change to pity, not even curiosity. It was…a relief.

“Pretty impressive, old man.”

Clint rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but smirk. God he hated that nickname.

The kitchen was quite, and it was still too early to leave for the courthouse. He’d have to keep the conversation going, so he could forget about the case; forget about his nerves.

“So, first day awake. Any big plans?” Clint almost winced at his words. It sounded insensitive. The kid had been unconscious for over two years, he would want to have emotional bonding time with his sister probably. Clint was never good at ‘touchy-feely’ situations and always made the mistake of taking serious situations light-heartedly, like this one.

Pietro however was shaking his head, soft smile resting on his face. “Wanda will be angry when she knows I am up, but she said she would take me to get clothes seeing as the only one’s I owned were thrown out. Too hard to wash out blood apparently, then there were the bullet holes and neither Wanda or I sew.” The kid was actually laughing, it should have sounded callous, but Pietro’s smile didn’t flicker into self-pity. He just kept smiling sincerely, like he found the situation humorous. Jesus, Clint wasn’t even this fucked up.

“Are you sure Stark is going to agree to let you run around New York? Have you even had and vitals checked or anything?”

Pietro shrugged. “I feel fine, and I don’t want to spend weeks locked in a lab as rat.”

“You mean ‘as a lab rat’?” Clint asked.

“Sure.” Pietro waved it off. “Besides, if Wanda is with me I know I will be ok. She is like my mother. I will not be shocked if she doesn’t even leave me alone to try on clothes.”

Clint scoffed. “You’re lucky your sister's letting you leave bed, let alone the Tower.”

Pietro smiled fondly, and then leaned towards Clint, past what the archer would call ‘personal space’. “Don’t ever tell Wanda this, but she really is the oldest. I think that is why she is so…” Pietro bit his lip, not sure of the right word.

“Protective?” Clint offered.

Pietro snapped his fingers and pointed at Clint. “Exactly! It is natural for her.”

“Wanda told us that your adopted parents didn’t know who was born first.”

“No, no, no, no,” Pietro waved his hand. “All they were given was a note saying the oldest was born twelve minutes before the other and our birth date. It was stupid, but I know in my gut Wanda is older. We only argue about it because I won’t let her win that easily.”

Clint nodded. He couldn’t see it from a sibling’s perspective, but only as a father. Cooper and Lila seemed to have the same stubborn relationship; thank god they weren’t twins.

“Did you guys ever find out who your birth parents were?” Clint spoke cautiously, not sure about Pietro’s feelings towards that aspect of his life.

The kid shook his head, smile fading into disappointment. “There were no documents. We were left at the synagogue doorsteps with a letter from my mother. Apparently our father and mother were holocaust survivors, and he disappeared to America before she knew she was pregnant. She wrote that she was ill, and that she couldn’t keep us.”

Pietro grew quite for a moment, fingers strumming anxiously on the table. “Our father had ‘gifts’ too. She didn’t say what they were, but that they were different from ours. It makes me wonder if that’s why he left; maybe he was afraid?” Pietro glanced up at Clint, as if he would know the answer.

Unsure, Clint shrugged and shook his head. “He could still be in the states.”

“Eh,” Pietro forced a laugh. “Perhaps she knew we would come here.”

Reaching beneath the collar of his shirt, he pulled a black chord around his head and held it out to Clint. “She left one for each of us.”

Clint took the necklace and examined the silver charm. ‘The Star of David’, roughly fashioned from two thin strips of metal. It was strangely heavy in Clint’s hand, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of intimacy when holding it.

“My father,” Pietro said, drawing Clint’s attention back to him, “Apparently made them. My mother wrote that when we found him, he would know we were his children. Like a… way to find him someday.”

Pietro’s smile returned, and Clint couldn’t help but smile back. He may not have his kids back yet, but he could help Wanda and Pietro’s father get his.

“You know, S.H.I.E.L.D. had files on all sorts of people like you and your sister. Maybe your father could be in one. I mean it’s worth a shot.”

Pietro’s eyes got wide. “Really? You could find him?”

“Well,” Clint leaned back looking down to the necklace. “If you had asked me a year ago, I would have said chances were slim, but since S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files were leaked online; if he’s on the list, we’ll find him.”

The kid was beaming. Clint had never seen him so happy and, well young. It almost scared him to realize that Pietro was really only twenty-five. Him and Wanda seemed so much older, the years of pain like a veil, but they were just kids. Children. Abandoned at Nathan’s age, orphaned again at Lila’s age, and most likely lived on the streets since Cooper’s age. Clint held his smile, but the darker thoughts of Wanda and Pietro’s childhood persisted.

“I better get going.” Clint hastily handed Pietro the necklace and began to gather his papers. He needed to leave before he started feeling guilty about their past. About Pietro.

“Wait,” Pietro gripped his arm and shoved the necklace back into his hand. “I won’t find my father today, but maybe you’ll find your children.”

Clint was speechless, his mouth trying to say no thanks but somewhere along the way his brain fucked up and he blurted out: “Wow, thank you. That’s really sweet.”

Realizing his mistake and that goofy smile spreading across the kid’s cheeks, Clint grabbed the papers and took off towards the elevator. Stupid, stupid filter.

Once he was past the glass doors and on the street, waiving vigorously for a taxi, he smiled too. It was generous, and he hoped that maybe, just maybe, it might work.

Laura noticed the charm as they waited outside the courtroom, her eyes soft and obviously curious. “I thought you were Baptist?”

Glancing down at the charm he snickered, “No, uh, a friend gave it to me. It’s supposed to be good luck.”

An eyebrow rose and that flirtatious smile he loved glaring back at him. “A female friend?”

Clint couldn’t help the look of disbelief that crossed his face. Why would she think-

“No! Wait, are you seeing other people?!”

That smile vanished and Laura looked over Clint like she couldn’t believe he was standing there. “Of course, we’re divorcing.”  
Clint’s jaw dropped, and he felt sick. Laura was always quick to adjust; ready to start life over at any moment, but this was- this was his wife. “You can’t see other men!” he snapped, and he hated himself for even saying it.

Laura glared, her relaxed persona growing cold. “I am not having this conversation Clint.”

The kids were out of earshot, but Cooper was watching them from across the room. Clint forced a smile, but he wanted to argue. Wanted to know why Laura had left, what had suddenly changed her mind. She seemed to read his mind as they both stared at their children.

“You were never going to leave the avengers.” She whispered, her eyes watching her shoes.

“What are you talking about? We were ready to move.”

Laura only shook her head and sighed. “But you still wouldn’t stop. They’d need you, and you’d go running off to save the world.”

“My family needs me.” He said firmly, his hand resting on hers.

She smiled and met his eyes. Her hand felt warm, and her thumb rubbed his wrist comfortingly. “We survived this long without you.”

Those words haunted him throughout the hearing, and as he stood beside Lila, holding her small hand, he wondered if it was true. He’d missed Coopers first steps while he was in Japan, Lila’s first words in Budapest, and Nate’s birth in Sokovia. Their lives were only vaguely filled with him. He’d done his best. He’d skyped home on missions, spent every moment home by their sides, but had he really done his part?

It was clear when the judge called him forward that she felt the same. A stack of documents sat beside her, as thick as an encyclopedia. “This is a very interesting evaluation Mr. Barton. I must admit it’s my first case involving an international spy.”

Clint scoffed. “Thank you mam’.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” she muttered, opening the top folder. “I have had many custody cases involving criminals, and I sadly must say there are more similarities than differences.”

His mouth went dry and he looked back at his kids. “I’ll admit, not all of my missions were considered ‘moral’ by any stretch of the imagination, but-“

“There’s no ‘but’s’ to it.” She looked up from the paper, inspecting Clint then his children. “Your life is not fit to raise children Mr. Barton, and I’m sorry to say I will be granting your wife custody until June, where your living situation will be reevaluated.”  
The gavel echoed and Clint stood unable to move, the room feeling too big and too small simultaneously. The judge stood and folded her papers, still talking despite Clint unable to hear:

“-an apartment or residential home would be ideal, I suggest you hire someone unaffiliated with the Avengers as a nanny on days you cannot care for them due to your work. Better yet,” she paused catching Clint’s attention once more, “find a new line of work.”

He watched as she left the stand, his heart sinking deep into his gut. He wanted to yell, to fight back, but words weren’t his weapon.

“Hey!”

Everyone turned to the benches; Cooper stood in the center of the floor and glaring at the judge.  
“That’s not fair! My dad has always taken care of us!”

The judge’s features softened and she came forward, stopping in front of him. “I understand this may seem unfair now, but when you’re older it will make sense. Your father simply lacks the means to-“

“I understand just fine!” Cooper’s face had gone red, and Clint had enough arguments with his son to know that red meant he had been pushed to his breaking point. “You can’t just keep us away from him because he’s done some bad things! He’s done some amazing things too but no one ever talks about that! He’s saved New York, and the world, more than once!”

“Cooper,” Clint rushed forward and wrapped Cooper in his arms, but his son pushed away, struggling to get what he wanted to say out.

“I don’t want to live in Montana, I like New York, and I wanna be able to see my dad on something other than a computer screen!”

“Your father will still have visitation rights-“

“No he won’t!” Cooper screamed, and Clint could feel the tears soaking through his shirt. “Mom will tell him it’s not safe and he won’t come because he’ll think she’s right! Well she’s not!”

“Cooper,” Clint warned stroking his hair. He hadn’t realized he had tears too, and when he looked to the benches he could see Lila and Laura were mirroring them; Lila holding tightly to Laura’s side and Laura holding back her own emotions.  
The judge was struck silent and looked between the two parents. “I’m sorry, but my decision is final.” She turned and left, the courtroom silent except Coopers sobs into Clint’s shirt.

Lila and Cooper had clung to him for almost half an hour before he could convince them to let go and leave with their mother. Laura had simply given a quite thanks before crawling into the passenger seat of her taxi, refusing to look Clint in the eyes. His children watched from the rear window and Clint waved them goodbye, as if nothing had happened, like it was going to be okay.

His lawyer met him outside the courthouse, riffling through papers as he spoke to Clint: “You need an apartment, or even a house, somewhere unassociated with the Avengers. I suggest upstate, where you could preferably take a few months out of the year to just be a dad, help the judge disconnect you, Clint Barton, and the Hawkeye.”

“It’s just Hawkeye,” he corrected, mind struggling to wrap his head around having to fight to be a part of his kids lives.

“Well,” His lawyer loosened his tie and patted Clint on the shoulder. “The point is there’s still hope on getting equal custody.”

“Not for three months.” Clint said cynically, heart aching at the though of only seeing them through a screen for what felt like an eternity.

“Hey, allot can happen in three months. For one you’ll get a place, maybe look into some potential nanny’s or babysitters. Maybe find a side job, outside saving the world, to help pay the bills. Keeping up with child support is probably the most important though,” The man was rambling on, and Clint really didn’t want to hear any of this. He needed a drink, first and foremost.

He’d decided to walk back to the tower, in need of the distraction. Somewhere along the way he’d removed his hearing aid and pocketing it as he walked. It was surreal, watching the chaos of New York around him but no noise to accompany it. He was only a few blocks away from the Avengers tower when he wandered into a dodgy bar, ordering the hardest liquor he could get.

The bar was almost empty, except for the obvious day drinkers slouched on the stools. The television was off, and Clint couldn’t tell if there was music playing or not, but it didn’t matter if it was.

He was handed a drink and he wandered to the back of the bar, finding the darkest corner possible, but pausing upon seeing it was already occupied.

Pietro looked up, smile in place until he looked over Clint and seemed to understand the situation completely.  
Not good?

Clint sighed, it was rude not to put his aid back in, but he really didn’t feel like hearing the world go on right now. He could tell Pietro he just didn’t want to talk, but he did. He wanted to talk so fucking badly but about something other than his family.

“How’d the shopping go?” he asked instead, sitting across the table.

Pietro looked over Clint with concern but answered, speaking too fast for Clint to read his lips properly.

“Say again?” Clint asked before taking a sip of his drink, watching closely.

_Fine. Tony gave Wanda a credit card, a bad idea. I now have very expensive running shoes, but Wanda sent me back after I tried to buy only sweats._

Clint hummed into his beer and looked beneath the table. Yep, they looked like sneakers. They could’ve been ten dollars or a hundred, and he wouldn’t know the difference. “Where’s Wanda now?”

 _At the tower. I told her I just wanted to take a walk, no running, and especially no alcohol_. He took a sip of his drink and while C

lint wanted to laugh, he still felt unsure he should be condoning him. “You probably shouldn’t be drinking after only being awake a day.”

Pietro shrugged, _I don’t get drunk so I don’t see problem_.

“Now that’s a superpower I don’t envy,” Clint muttered as he doused the last of his drink, ordering another.

- _suit_.

Clint had caught none of what Pietro had just said, having been looking at his hands instead. He nodded, hoping it hadn’t been a question. Pietro’s face seemed to light up though, a smirk tugging at his lips.

_Wanda is getting me a room at the tower; I’m hoping it’s near yours._

That caught Clint off guard, and he wasn’t sure he’d read what Pietro was saying right. He’d suspected maybe he’d said ‘hers’, but the accent had thrown him off. “Uhh, yeah I’m sure it will be.”

Pietro was grinning now, eyes looking so alive and young and, if Clint was being honest, almost flirtatious. Had he misread something? He shifted nervously in his seat and decided it had been long enough practicing lip reading; it was too distracting to concentrate with his mind focused on other things.

Clint pulled the aid from his pocket and placed it back in his ear, Pietro watching curiously.

“You were lip reading just now?” Pietro asked, that thick accent being the first to reach the aid.  
Clint nodded. Man, the bar did have music playing, and it was way louder than what should be tolerable. Pietro seemed to notice Clint’s observation, pointing at the speaker.

“I was practically shouting when I could’ve just whispered.”

“Yeah,” Clint smiled. “I didn’t realize there was even any music.”

Pietro only smirked, then yelled again over the speakers. “We should get back, Wanda thinks I’m at the park. If she discovers I am here, she’ll kill me for real.”

Clint laughed then finished his second drink, following Pietro out of the bar. The kid didn’t run, but instead kept pace with Clint as they walked towards the tower. Their conversation consisted mostly of what Pietro had planned now that he was back. Tomorrow would be testing by Stark, and the day after, and the day after that. Other than that he was free to do whatever, except Avenging.

Not once did Pietro ask about Clint’s kids, and he was grateful. It was a welcome distraction that, for the entire walk until they reached the bedrooms hall, worked.

“See you around old man,” Pietro said as he disappeared into his sister’s room.

Clint rolled his eyes despite no one there to see him, and then snickered as he could hear Wanda scolding Pietro in Russian behind the door.

-

* * *

 

Around eleven o’clock he’d gone back to that room, Pietro’s necklace in hand. He’d meant to give it back after he changed from the monkey suit earlier, but had forgotten about it on the nightstand. He’d felt horrible for having kept it so long and nearly jogged down the hall to return it.

Wanda opened the door and looked over Clint like he was crazy, standing there in his pajamas and no shoes. “What is it?”

“Can you give this back to Pietro for me, he leant it to me earlier and I forgot to return it.” He held the charm out and Wanda’s jaw dropped.

“He gave you this?” she sounded shocked, and her hand reached to feel the one around her own neck. “Pietro never takes-“

There was a gust of wind and Pietro stood beside his sister, struggling to push her from the doorway.

“Hey, Clint!” he said, Wanda giving both a glare as she listened to the conversation.

“Hey,” Clint repeated. “Just gave your sister back your necklace, sorry for keeping it so long.”

Pietro shook his head, tossing white curls in every direction. “No, no. It’s okay.”

“Alright, see ya’ kids.” Clint gave a half wave as he turned to go but Pietro followed him out into the hall.

"What are you doing?" Wanda asked, but Pietro only tossed her a smile that seemed far too innocent to be real. Wanda shook her head and returned to the room leaving the door open. Clint had kept walking, hoping Pietro wasn't following him. When he caught up with Clint though he walked backwards, raised eyebrows and faux innocence still etched into his features.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

Clint shrugged, studying how Pietro was able to walk so quickly backwards without the slightest lag in pace. "Training."

"Wanda says you're not going on missions anymore? Why?"

"Hurt my shoulder a few months ago, but I should be back on the team soon."

"Ahh," Pietro nodded. "Your collarbone, right?"

Clint was taken aback by the question. "Yeah, how'd you-"

"I remember you telling me when I was in coma. You explained what the collarbone was too. It's this," Pietro outstretched his hand to point at Clint's chest. His fingers brushed the fabric of Clint's shirt, making his heart stop momentarily.

"Yep," was all Clint could cough out, walking a little faster. Pietro didn't notice the change.

"Do you want to come with me while Mr.Stark does tests tomorrow?"

"Shouldn't Wanda be going with you?" Clint asked. He could see his door now.

Pietro nodded, "Of course. But I want you to come too."

Oh God, he couldn't say no. The kid was probably nervous and could use all the support available. "Nah."

Pietro's smile faltered, nearly stumbling backwards. "Oh...alright." Pietro looked over to Clints door as they stopped, then back to Clint. "Maybe I'll see you in the gym then?"

"Yeah, sure." _Yeah right_.

Pietro looked ecstatic, "Night old man." He said before disappearing, a streak of heat and wind nearly nocking Clint off balance. Nearly. He wasn't that old.

 


End file.
